Another Day Another Lie
by BabyAlyx96
Summary: One memeber of the nightshift team thinks about their life a few weeks after an incident that almost cost them their lifes. (hint hint: name starts with 'G' and ends in 'G') One swear word, small spoiler for PwF.


**A/N:** This is just some crazy thing I came up with in the spur of the moment. These are actually my thoughts, just channeled through Greg.

**Spoilers: **Just PwF really. And, I do know that in ItB, Grissom does notice something, but just pretend okay? Good.

**Rating:** PG-13 just for one swear word.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters which are used in this story, although I greatly wish. The basis of the plot, aka his thoughts, are mine as they are my thoughts. Everything else belongs to Mr. Jerry B and Zuiker.

* * *

Another day; Another lie. That was what my days had become now, and slowly I began to fall apart. I was grateful for such a slow process at first, glad that nobody would see how much an event could unnerve me, but then that feeling started to fade. All emotions were starting to fade. However, that one feeling was the quickest to leave my mind and body. I began to wonder how people, who saw me every single day, could not even see how much pain I went through. Nobody had once stopped in the past four weeks to ask if I was okay. Ask if I should even be at work this early, and why none of my relatives had come to visit.  
  
My father had always said I would have become an actor if it weren't for my brains. Sometimes I actually believed it, and sometimes I wished I had been dumb as a nail. Then, however, I may not have even lasted this long. In Las Vegas, the youngest could die young and the oldest could survive anything. A true mystery, or so it was in my own mind. Just like that mystery, others were kept locked up inside that brain of mine, away from prying eyes. Many stories... whether they be fiction or not, all traveled silently until a thought brought them out from behind a wall.  
  
A wall. I felt like I stood behind one of those, day after day, wishing someone would drag me into the light. Just like those stories, I wished to be freed from the shadows. Maybe I was becoming too insightful with my thoughts. I shouldn't give myself such credit to say that I understood the workings of my mind. Scientist I was, but never a reader of the unknown. The unknown in which held life's secrets.  
  
Life. It was all a great circle, deceiving you with many turns, telling you – lying – that it wasn't a circle, but a wavy line. That childish movie, the one with the lion, seemed to be right for the most part. Life was a circle, bringing you back to the shit it had you start with. Truthfully, the movie may not have been as explicit as I was, but it was the message hidden within. The message hidden within the fortune cookie never tells you the full truth, only clues which help you discover yourself.  
  
Fortune cookies are also deceiving, however. They do not always tell you a clue to find your life path, but instead, give you crazy quotes you wished you'd never heard of. Once, a friend of mine, opened his cookie to find that the quote was, 'A frog shall hop once. And die.' That always puzzled me. How could a frog hop only once, and then come to its death? Many scenes played out in my imaginative mind. Maybe the frog hopped onto a road, and proceeded to get run over by a car or had a heart attack? Those thoughts, those scripts, led me to think of my own demise.  
  
I always wished I would die painlessly in my sleep, but who hasn't? With my line of work, I've begun wishing for said plan to burst into action quite soon. And, if not soon, at least painlessly. Tales have been told endlessly to me about death, and what occurs afterwards, and it was once told to me that after being beheaded, your brain registers the fact that you are for five seconds. There is no way this is true, as it cannot be proved. It is impossible for anyone to figure this out, because by the time you realized your head was separate from your body, you'd be dead. As to prove my point at the time, I merely suggested we do a little experiment. Never have I seen those people again.  
  
Now, these little stories I've told have probably made you think, 'His life doesn't sound too bad. Why is he complaining when little children over in Africa, as well as other countries, are suffering far more than him?' To tell the truth, at the moment, I don't care about those kids. I may be smited by God himself as those thoughts cross my mind, but I'm feeling quite selfish at the moment. Now, as my thoughts are plagued with images of starving children, I come to think of how my life is compared to them. Then, I think of what they would do in my situation, and come to the conclusion that they would do exactly what I'm doing.  
  
I am self-pitying myself because nobody else will do it for me. No one else sits in a swivel chair every single day wishing that they would implode at that very moment. No one else knows what kind of thoughts run through my head every time I see fire, a sharp object, or a poison of some sort. Trust me, I could get my hands on several of either of those objects within five minutes. However, never trust me to actually end my life upon holding those objects. Selfish, I may be; depressed, I may be; actually harming myself, I can not.  
  
Many times I've seen it, in real life or in the movies, and every time I go, 'How could one do such a stupid thing? How do they not know if they can pull out of something so horrifying?' And, it's true. How can they not know the future that is laid ahead of them? If only they would take another step and continue on walking down the highway. A serial killer could just be the one guy who stops to give you a lift, but while making that risk, you also have the chance of getting picked up by a cop. A guy who will help you get to where ever you're heading.  
  
And, you know, I may have just helped myself while helping you, but those are my thoughts. Some could be sadistic, others could be cheery. It depends on who you are and who you make me out to be. I could be that serial killer, waiting for you to hop in so I can kill you and dump the body a few miles down the road. I could also be that cop, prancing around merrily with the doped up unicorn. It all depends on what you think and what you believe.  
  
So, as I've said before... Another day; Another lie. How do you know that what I've just said has not all been another story that makes up the complicated webs I call my life? You don't, and that's what makes it a day. You don't know what can happen within the course of one day, just like you don't know if this is all a big hoax. The truth may come to you, once upon a time in the future, but by then, will you even remember what you were trying to figure out?  
  
Greg. 


End file.
